deepundergroundpoetry.com
No Rain
Gentle is the breeze that strokes. Lifts, gathers.
Shadows disperse with clouds. No drizzle, no rain.
She urinates on the floor. No sense, no shame.
She wipes herself with her clothes. Shifts, listens.
Shadows disperse with clouds. No drizzle, no rain.
She urinates on the floor. No sense, no shame.
She wipes herself with her clothes. Shifts, listens.
Published 20th Jun 2014
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20th Jun 2014 6:09am
you take us to a place that we members of 'polite society' shun.
but the writer goes where the story is...
but the writer goes where the story is...
23rd Jun 2014 8:38am
20th Jun 2014 10:18am
This reminds me of my grandmother in her final stages of Alzheimer's disease ... At her best she was at peace with God on her small farm ... in her final days she was prone to moments like the one you described ...
... Well penned
... Well penned
23rd Jun 2014 8:39am
26th Jun 2014 2:18am
26th Jun 2014 6:13am
